Page 80 of I Blame the Rival

She gives me a shaky nod and I drag the shorts down her legs. Black lace panties await me, the red roses dancing along the material momentarily distracting me.

“Flowers on my flower.” Brushing the pretty design with my fingers, I lean in to get my first taste, “How fitting.”

“Skylar, wait.”

I rip my hands from her body and sit back on my heels. It physically hurts to stop touching her, but nothing matters more than Lacey being able to trust me.

Even if it almost kills me in the process.

She bites her lip, suddenly looking shy, “What if I don’t taste good?”

Is she joking?

Torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry, I can only stare at her, seeing the genuine concern etched across her face. She looks so defeated already that I don’t know how to undo the damage Jerrell fucking Thompson left behind.

It’s inconceivable to me that Lacey doesn’t understand how badly I want her. How much time she spends in my head everysecond of every day. How many times I wake up in the night thinking about her smile. Thinking about her laughter.

She has me wrapped around her finger and she doesn’t even know it.

“Flower.” I meet her down casted gaze, hoping that she will understand, “It doesn’t matter what you taste like. I’m going to enjoy it.”

“How can you be sure?”

I sigh, “Because you’re it for me, Flower. There is no one else.”

The truth echoes around her bedroom, the weight of my words dropping like an anchor between us. Lacey starts blinking rapidly, tears shining through the lust in her eyes.

“You’re it for me too, Skylar.”

She whispers the secret tying us together, the unbreakable bond connecting our shattered souls. A thread engraved with Lacey’s name pierces through my chest, tugging the fractured pieces back into place and sewing the bleeding lacerations closed.

I stare at her, unable to say anything else as my patched up heart beats painfully in my chest. A hint of uncertainty slips through her tender expression, the slight shift of her legs drawing my attention back to the question of whether I’m going to like what she tastes like.

As if I’m not going to like what she tastes like.

Reaching up, I press my finger against her damp panties. The wet edge of the lace has me letting out a groan and the sound only gets louder when I suck my finger into my mouth.

Lacey’s gasp fills the room as she watches me, the flush on her cheeks quickly shifting from self-conscious to aroused. I meet her gaze and slowly pull out my finger, letting my tongue flick over the tip for good measure.

“You like it when I’m honest, so I’m going to be honest with you.” I clear my throat, trying not to stare at the flush racing down her body, “You are fucking delicious and I am really looking forward to this. Do you have any other questions?”

She stares at me with dilated pupils, the desire painted in them reflecting the same one tenting my pants.

“I-I think I’m good.”

“Is it okay if I continue?”

Her head drops in a nod and I let my fingers sink back into the soft flesh of her legs. Pushing her legs wider apart, I run my tongue up the inside of her thigh and press my nose against the black lacy material.

And then I breathe her in like she’s the oxygen I’ve spent the last eighteen years waiting for.

“Oh my God.” Lacey squirms against me, the material against my face growing damper by the second.

Fuck. She smells so fucking good.

I drag my tongue from the edge of her taint up to the flowers decorating the front of her panties. Lacey lets out a gasp, her bud swelling through the flimsy material. Using my teeth to grab the edge of the fabric, I drag the panties down over her legs.

She lifts her hips to help the process and I use the opportunity to tug her closer to the edge of the bed. Her breathing is heavyand uneven by the time I make it back to her pussy, and the sight almost makes me come on the spot.

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